Rose, the fortune teller, was comfortably seated at her table, deeply engrossed in a card reading. Her purple hair cascaded down her back, and she was dressed to the nines in a stunning red ball gown with a right sleeve that stopped at her elbow, leaving her left arm bare. She wore dark purple stockings and a pair of red stilettos. For accessories, she had a chic choker in the shape of an antique key, and matching earrings dangling from her ears. As she plucked a card from the deck, her expression grew sly. "Well, well," she murmured to herself, "Bison, your time with all that power is almost up."

Suddenly, she felt a change in the air, a subtle shift that indicated someone was approaching her store. "Ah," she thought, looking up from her cards, "I sense a visitor." She gathered her cards and began to shuffle them once again, the smooth motion a silent invitation for whoever was outside to come in and discover their fate.